More than Time and Money
by zevgirl
Summary: Every now and then he touched her, his hand brushing her arm or legs, making intimate contact, and the feelings she'd thought were under control would bubble to the surface. Fear, lust, anxiety, and affection all mingled together with the power of a supernova, like a cleansing fire, healing yet all-consuming. f!Shepard/illusive Man.
1. A New Dawn

**_A/N:_** _This is a little holiday cheer for my friend, the lovely and witty,__ **Zute**. It was meant to be some sort of PWP one shot, but now it will be more than one chapter since I've wanted to explore this relationship for a while now. (Sorry Zute, you'll have to wait a little while for the porn) The Illusive Man may have said he wasn't looking for a dance partner when he brought Shepard back from the dead, but I didn't quite believe him. This starts during ME2 shortly before the final mission. _

_Hugs and kisses to my buddy _**_Biff McLaughlin_**_ for beta reading this for me. She also has a wonderful Mass Effect story, **This is What Matters**, which spans all three games. Oh, and F!Shepard/Vega fic too!_

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**More than Time and Money**

"Not one word, Joker, or I'll have your balls in a vice before you can whistle Dixie."

"Ouch." Joker looked away when he saw her fists clench. But he was Shepard's friend —probably the best friend she'd ever had—and he'd always been there to lean on, knowing how to carry the weight she unconsciously put on him. "Okay, Commander, I won't mention the Illusive Prick's sudden appearance on the Normandy at this hour. At least not until the Collector mission is over."

"I'm serious, Joker." She stepped forward, staring, her eyes moving as if trying to gauge his concern. "He has some intel we need to discuss in person. Please don't give me any grief tonight."

"Fine." Joker realized, maybe for the first time since meeting her, something other than the mission had her on edge. He figured they were sleeping together, but now he wondered if Shepard had grown too close to the Illusive Man. _Shit, she better not have fallen for that asshole. _"Shepard," he said, then decided on a more personal approach. "Becca, you know his motivations. Just… be careful."

"Noted." She nodded once, forcing a smile she hoped looked at least half sincere.

Taking quick steps away from the cockpit, she moved closer to the Combat Information Center. Kelly Chambers' back was to her as she huddled over a terminal.

"Chambers," Shepard said abruptly. "The Illusive Man is coming aboard for an urgent meeting before we head to the Omega Four relay. Hustle him up to my quarters the second his feet hit the deck."

"Yes, Commander. Do you need anything special sent up?" she chirped. Her serious expression gave her away; she was analyzing Shepard, noting her body language and tone. "Drinks? Snacks?"

"We're not having a tea party, Chambers." Shepard glared at her, resisting the urge to yell. Her dislike for Kelly was on display, but she dialed her annoyance back a notch, if only to keep suspicions at bay as excitement rose in her, the addiction to the Illusive Man tugging at her. Shepard had to hide her attraction to him, her need for his presence, fearing most of the crew would lose respect for her if they knew the truth. Weeks had gone by without seeing him in person, and she'd spoken to him only a few times in the comm room via hologram, alone only two of those times. The separation was eating away at her.

"Just don't give anyone a chance to question him if they're lurking around or suffering from insomnia tonight. Not even Miranda." Kelly's false smile fell and she paled a bit. "And," Shepard added, pointing a finger, "if you can't handle my orders, then find someone who can."

"Will do, Commander. I mean I can handle it!"

"Good."

A brief but loud rumbling indicated the outer airlock had been opened. Watching intently for the Illusive Man, Shepard heard the unmistakable clicking of his shoes echoing above the low hum of the Normandy as he came aboard. When she caught sight of him, her impulse was to rush up and throw her arms around him. Of course she didn't dare. Her loyalties were torn, equal parts guilt and desire rising and constricting her breathing as he moved toward her with purpose. She turned on her heels and headed away. The doors to the elevator slid shut before he could reach her. On the ride up, she laughed to herself, knowing Chambers would keep him occupied with some inane chatter just long enough for her to primp.

Once inside her quarters, Shepard gazed at herself in the mirror, noting the flush spreading from her neck to her ears. She cursed under her breath. _Damn him for having an effect on me_. After smoothing the wrinkles from her officer's dress, she let her hair down, allowing the golden-brown locks to flow over her shoulders. The Illusive Man loved to touch her hair, loved to wind strands around his fingers before pulling her closer. Another glance in the mirror had her second guessing her clothes. Maybe she should have worn something more daring, a revealing dress or lingerie perhaps. No, best to make sure she didn't look like most of the women in his employ. She was the Commander of the Normandy with all the title entailed and she would damn well make that plain.

She stood near the door waiting for his knock, cracking her knuckles and chewing her lip. A rap sounded within a minute, but she hesitated, imagining the breath he was blowing out impatiently. She tapped the control panel, and he greeted her with a slight nod. Her eyes widened to stare at him as his gaze roamed up and down her body, her stomach fluttering with nervous anticipation. He was relaxed and composed wearing a sly smile to go with his smug expression. When he stepped closer, she smelled a hint of cologne, the Bay Rum she was very fond of. So handsome in his plum-colored suit and perfectly coifed hair, she found herself unable to speak, tongue-tied like a schoolgirl.

"I've never seen you at a loss for words before, Shepard."

She cleared her throat. "I know you like to be the first to speak, to give me that critical piece of information I _must_ hear this _very_ second."

"Hm. Mocking aside, that's unusually considerate of you." He stepped closer, taking in her mischievous air as he reached out to brush her hair back. "I see you're in a mood tonight. But you could have worn something more… thought provoking."

"Isn't this just a business meeting?"

His brows rose. "Make me an offer and I may change the agenda."

"Maybe later." She went down the stairs grinning and motioned for him to sit on the couch. "Tell me what's so important that you had to see me in person?"

"Something vital to the mission."

"I got that. So what is it? Some new intel about the base or the relay or what?"

"There is no new information. I wanted to see you in person because this mission is the most dangerous to date. I've procured a new operative if you need another skilled assassin."

"No thanks. But _you_ can come along for the chase. I know you secretly want to." She leaned in to him, anticipating a passionate kiss, aching for it, but he brushed a chaste kiss on her cheek instead.

"My presence would be a distraction and we can't afford the risk."

"Chicken."

He tilted her head up and stared longer than usual. "The holos don't allow me to search your eyes as I can in person."

"I haven't lied about anything, Jack. We're ready. No question." She laid her hand on his chest, felt the warm hardness beneath the fine linen, and smoothed her way downward. "So let's cut to the chase. Admit you only came here for the sex."

His eyes darkened, simmering with offense. "You have so little faith in me, Shepard."

"You've done nothing to make me feel otherwise."

"Haven't I?" He took her hand, and his grip was so warm and firm something moved deep inside her. "The exotic meals on Illium complete with strolling minstrels didn't impress you?"

"I would have been impressed if you'd known how much I love to dance to their music." Silence. The gears in his head were turning, no recollection of her love for dance coming to his mind. This amused her more than anything had in recent months. "Don't beat yourself up, Jack. It's a love I developed later in life, and no one knows about it."

"A point to you," he said, tipping his head in acknowledgment. "But I won't make that mistake twice." A flicker of a smile softened his expression, his brows narrowing in thought. "Be careful on the Collectors' base, Rebecca. Having to care for an invalid would complicate my future endeavors." He tensed for the briefest moment at his candid wording.

_Another point for me, _she thought_. _"Is that your way of saying you care for me?" Her voice was light, but her dark green eyes were intense, focused solely on his, not allowing him to look away.

Clearly her nearness was putting him off his game and intoxicating his reason. Of course she'd chosen to attach feelings to something he wanted to see as purely physical. Why wouldn't she? He'd practically proposed marriage with that comment. "That's my way of protecting an investment. In any case, I can't afford to bring you back from the dead a second time."

_Backpedal all you want_. There was no point in pushing him though. He liked to have all his ducks in a row before diving headlong into anything. "Did I ever thank you for saving me?"

"As a matter of fact, no, you didn't."

"My gratitude runs very deep, Jack." She reached for a bottle of bourbon she'd procured recently, and for a hefty fee. "Really, it does."

"Be careful where you tread, Rebecca." He grabbed a fistful of hair and jerked her head to the side, exposing her neck. The bottle in her hand landed back on the table with a thump.

She moaned softly, then held her breath, waiting for him to kiss her there, to stroke the sensitive column of her neck with his tongue, but the sensation never came. His arms tightened around her though, and he crushed his lips to hers, the fire in his kiss half stealing her breath away.

"I may need convincing of your gratitude," he whispered. "Think you're up for the task?"

"Of course," she said, tugging on his lapels to pull him closer. "Now how about that drink?" _Before I tackle you to the floor and rip your clothes off_. Composing herself, she poured identical amounts into the two glasses; three fingers, neat.

"Impressive. Jim Beam Black is hard to come by these days. Not to mention prohibitively priced." He took a sip, then reached into a breast pocket and pulled out a silver case. The cigarette slipped out and was lit before she could raise an objection. "I hope you don't mind," he said as a cloud of smoke obscured his face momentarily.

"I'll allow you one tonight. Maybe another if you're nice to me."

He gave a short laugh and took two more puffs, following the curls of smoke until they reached the ceiling and dispersed. "I assume you've spent the rest of the money I've given you more wisely."

"Did I say I _bought_ the bourbon?"

"Ah." He took another long drag before stubbing out the cigarette. "Frugality is the quickest route to riches. Or so I've heard."

He caught her shoulder when she was within reach and spun her into his arms for a thorough kiss, not a gentle, tender brush on her lips but a bold possessive claiming that involved teeth and tongues. This was the Jack Harper she couldn't resist, the passionate and fiery lover, his smoky, bourbon flavored kiss sending frissons of desire through her body.

"You seem to be in a mood as well," she said. "And I did buy the bourbon with your money. But I'll pay you back."

"Yes, you will pay me back." He unfastened the first two buttons of her shirt and gently caressed her skin. Beneath his fingers, she drew a sharp breath but remained silent. "All night long, in fact. But business first, Shepard. Sacrifices must be made for the greater good."

She sighed miserably. "You enjoy teasing me a little too much."

"I do," he agreed quietly, "but I also enjoy pleasing you. Your patience will be well rewarded, don't worry. By the time I'm done with you, you'll have handed your body _and_ soul over to me."

The deep tone of his voice held temptation, dare, and shameless command. It thrilled her, but self-preservation was essential for survival in any situation. She sat up straight and pushed his roaming hands away. "All right. Let's get this damn conversation over with."

They sat together, thigh touching thigh, just as they had so many other times, talking of trivialities as well as recent triumphs, sipping their drinks in easy conversation. Every now and then he touched her, his hand brushing her arm or legs, making intimate contact, and the feelings she'd thought were under control would bubble to the surface. Fear, lust, anxiety, and affection all mingled together with the power of a supernova, like a cleansing fire, healing yet all-consuming.

She was drawn to him just as he was to her, but illusive was a trait for everyone else. Elusive was what he was to her, having no doubt he would change the game play eventually, mix it up enough so she couldn't get a handle on where she really stood with him. He would encourage her feelings with tender touches or aggressive passion, and then crush them with an offhanded or callous remark. There was only one conclusion to draw: their association, while satisfying on many levels, would not end well when all was said and done. _Damn the consequences. I want to enjoy this while I'm alive and able_.

"Now that we're done patting ourselves on the back," she said, twisting her fingers in his hair, urging him closer, "how about we move on to something more… rigorous."


	2. Talk is Cheap

"Something more rigorous?" Jack's mouth curved with a predatory grin. "I think I can accommodate your request."

Starving for his touch, she kissed him with a savagery that shocked her. He was still for only a moment before surrendering, grabbing her face and pressing a desperate kiss to her lips, short and hungry. She found herself biting at his lips, and he bit back, rough and piercing, in a struggle that was as much an attack on each other as a kiss. But then he softened, changing it to something deep and passionate, personal. The kiss ended when they both came up for some much needed air. Rebecca couldn't remember how she ended up on his lap with her arms around his neck, but she didn't move away, and he didn't seem to mind as his eyes fixed on her face.

"You're staring at me," she said, but he didn't respond. "What do you see?"

He took a breath to ease the growing tightness in his chest. "The way you perceive the truth in the world around you. Did you know your eyes crinkle when you smell the blood of an adversary?"

"Please. I'm not that vicious," she scoffed.

"You're every bit as ferocious and possessive as a varren on a fresh kill."

Her eyes opened wide, and a sound somewhere between a laugh and a snort came from her. "Ah, you're referring to my comment about Matriarch Trellani the other day."

"A willing participant presented at an opportune moment," he said, waving a hand, dismissing the information as irrelevant. "She had no false impressions of what our relationship was about." He finished what was left of his drink and, gently extracting himself from her embrace, got up to pour another, all without sparing her another glance.

Why was he defending his actions? Harsh judgments and scrutiny were everyday occurrences, and he didn't give a shit about what other people thought of him. Her opinion of his character mattered though. He liked her, respected her, as a woman, as a lover, as Commander of the Normandy, and more importantly, as a person who held similar thoughts about humanity retaining its galactic control above all other species.

"At least she didn't suck your brain dry." She poked his arm playfully as he sat down. "There's no need to feel defensive, Jack. I know how difficult life can be for a playboy."

He growled at the epithet. "Trellani was fascinating. Hypnotic and dangerous, but certainly nothing I couldn't handle."

"Uh huh." Men were so pathetically predictable, ready to roar and beat their chests to prove their masculinity.

"She was a marvelous lay."

She shimmied out of his arms, pretending she wasn't the least bit jealous at the thought of him with another woman. She had no claim on Jack, nor what he did with his life, not when they'd met and not now. It was stupid. _She_ was stupid. The uneasy feeling intensified. "So how do I compare?" He grabbed her hand and guided it lower until she was left with no doubt as to his response. Her smile turned into more of a smirk by the second. "You're not the only one to take advantage of unexpected opportunities, you know."

"Give me some credit, Rebecca. You have no interest in an alien liaison," he said. "Massani is too weathered for you and Jacob is too honorable. Unless…." His expression went flat and then coolly challenging, but the look was gone before she could savor it, covered up behind his careful gaze.

"What was that look all about?"

"Are you thinking of branching out? Embracing eternity with a curvy Asari? If that's the case, I won't dissuade you."

"You'd just love a threesome, wouldn't you?" _Asshole_.

"Are you offering?"

"No such luck. Stick with those Terra Firma twins you're so fond of."

"Fondness was not part of that equation."

"Well it couldn't have been the intellectual conversations. Between the two of them can they even put a sentence together?"

"We didn't speak much," he said. Her face flushed, her whole body tensing, and he watched her for a few seconds before leaning back on the sofa and spreading his arms out. "They were simply a fleeting moment and I was gone long before the sun came up."

_Son of a bitch, throwing that in my face…. _She was repulsed by his arrogance and smug satisfaction, and at the same time, she wanted him to make love to her until she forgot the rigid code she had imposed on herself, a code that now seemed ridiculous in the face of possible death. "The sun will be up in five hours. Well, at least on Earth. Plenty of time, right?"

"I could take my shuttle back right now." He wrapped an arm around her waist and yanked her toward him, pressing her hard against his chest.

"I'd be very put out, not to mention frustrated. And so would you."

His gaze drifted to her bed and then back to her. "Speaking of frustrated, we should-"

She put a finger on his lips. "What did you say to me about patience earlier?" She wriggled away and dropped to her knees, smiling at his weary sigh. "Nice shoes. These alone can fund a mission." Taking his feet in her hands, she slipped off the shoes and tossed them over her shoulder. "You can always pawn your pricey suits for some extra creds too."

"Perhaps I exaggerated when I said I couldn't afford to bring you back from the dead again."

Her eyes rolled dramatically. "Really, Jack?" She pressed her fingertips into the soles of his feet, squeezed and pinched his toes, expertly massaging his ankle with gentle rotations. Her fingers ran along his calf muscles, and she felt the outline of a knife sheath. A low groan escaped him, and she smiled but said nothing as she slowly rolled the sock down, revealing the sheathed knife. "Going old school, huh?" She pulled the blade out and examined it carefully, admiring the intricately carved handle. "Were you worried I'd try to kill you?"

"Of course not," he said as she put the knife on the table, although the thought had crossed his mind. "But members of your team see me as a fanatical and ruthless opportunist."

"And they're right. They probably see me that way too."

"Not quite. The Drell and the Turian both despise me. They'd protect you with their lives."

"Yes, they would. Loyal to a fault," she agreed. "And they have their own code of conduct, but no one else in my crew would hurt you without my okay."

"Well, I can think of at least one other person who blames me for her own… instabilities." His muscles tensed as she continued to run her hands up and down his leg.

"If I was her I'd blame you too. But we're not going to have an argument about the Teltin facility again." She looked at him thoughtfully. "For all her bluster, our Subject Zero wouldn't do anything to jeopardize the mission. You might want to keep your distance once the Collectors are out of the way though."

"You won't protect me?"

She barked a laugh. "You're more than capable, Jack. I don't worry about your ability to defend yourself, whatever the means."

He looked away from her, a small frown on his lips. "What _do_ you worry about, Rebecca? Do you ever worry at all?"

She shrugged. "Not too often." She reflected on the question as she caressed him. The first eighteen years of her life had been nothing but worry, and she thought she'd used up her lifetime quota, more or less. She lost sleep from time to time now, but the events and people on her mind were important only to her. "If I said I worried about you would you believe me?"

"No man is worth your sanity."

"You're right, but you do spend too much time investigating tech that can harm you and the people around you."

He took a deep breath and tilted his head. "If what you say is true, I'm flattered by your concern. But worry is not preparation," he said, keeping his voice low and serious. "It gives the illusion you are preparing yourself when, in fact, the only thing thoughts of fear prepare you for is panic."

"Fuck you, Jack. I never panic." She dropped his leg and downed the rest of her drink, the alcohol lighting a fire in her veins. "Christ, I thought we were past these ridiculously oblique conversations anyway."

He laughed a smooth chuckle, like he'd expected that response from her. "Maybe the control chip wasn't such a terrible idea after all."

"You wouldn't be here now if you'd gone along with Miranda's idea."

"True." He grabbed her arms and pulled her back onto the couch, positioning her so she was lying flat on her back while he hovered right above her. "Your reactions are far more entertaining than any I could have prompted with the push of a button."

She pulled him closer, her hand moving down his lower back in an exploratory way that had him smiling. His hand stroked her face and hair, caressing her gently, and she responded with a soft moan as his fingertips traced her face.

"Tell me what you're thinking," she said, moving up to listen for his answer and quickly added, "Lie to me if you have to."

Something strange crossed his face, a mix of thought and emotion and challenge. An empathetic sigh came from his lips. Slowly he bent forward to whisper in her ear. "I won't lie to you, considering it's a suicide mission you're about to embark on. A little honesty is the least I can offer as this comes down to the end."

The risk involved in the mission was tremendous. How could he be so blasé? Shocked by his casual remark, her hands pushed against his shoulders until they were both sitting upright, face to face.

"What is it, Rebecca?"

"You said 'the end'? You think we won't make it out?"

"Odds are not everyone will make it out alive, but you will. You will because I'm telling you to."

"Oh, I… I misunderstood what you meant." He touched her cheek with his hand and she leaned toward him, a sensual, feminine, and spontaneous movement. "You're still a cocky bastard," she said with a weak elbow to his ribs. His admission of what he honestly wanted touched her in unquantifiable ways. She curled around him and rested her head on his chest, claiming her place beside him. "I should kill you on principle."

"Go ahead and try." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and she felt his broad smile. "After the mission."

"Jack," she said, somewhat hesitantly, "after everything we've been through, everything we've done... has anything changed? Have we changed?"

"You haven't," he said, squeezing her. "But over time the way I view you has changed."

Not really the answer she was looking for, but he wasn't about to get into a psychological evaluation of cause and effect. How far could she push him before he shut down? Before he shut _her_ down?

"And how do you view me now? Not as an equal or a partner, that much I know. You may respect and trust in my judgment, desire me when the mood strikes, but that's about where it ends, isn't it?"

"Rebecca, what you're asking for, what you want, is something I can't give to you. Maybe years ago it would have been different, but not now."

"Right. All those pesky things in the way. The Collectors, the Reapers, and more importantly," she paused to take a breath and build up a dramatic air, "our rightful place in the galaxy."

"That is precisely correct." Leaning back with a stern a gaze, she flushed with the intensity of his stare, her theatrics not amusing him. "A white picket fence and children playing in the yard are not in the cards. What exactly do you want from me?"

"Nothing," she said between gritted teeth. "Nothing beyond a good fuck and some time to forget all the other bullshit." God damn him, he was right; it wasn't like she had any ambitious hopes for a happily ever after. Still, her anger continued to flare at his presumption and callousness. "But that doesn't mean I can't wallow in a little self-pity when the mood strikes. Are you so hardened that you can't understand that?"

"What I understand is that a comfortable life is not for people like you and me."

"I get it, Jack. I just want to forget sometimes. And you don't exactly make it easy for me to forget either. You make me so damn… so goddamn... ach!" she said, punching the couch.

"Miserable? Violent?" He raised his eyebrows. "Horny?"

She had to laugh then. "All of the above, yes." But her laughter was tempered by other thoughts, dreams of a life she would never have, wrapped in his arms and forgetting her purpose. _Fuck that_. _Let whatever happens happen_. In a whisper of a voice, she answered. "You make me happy sometimes, you know? And I hope I've made you happy too."

He was not expecting to hear her speak so plainly, and with such warmth. He prided himself on being able to handle any situation that came along, but this threw him. "I'm not saying what we have is insignificant or misguided. There are times when I'm… distracted by you, when I feel like I did years ago, before…."

He looked away from her, to a distant past only he could see, and there was a melancholy about him that made her heart flutter with a vague dread.

"Before what? Shanxi? Tell me, Jack. Does this have anything to do with your exposure to the Prothean artifact?"

"It's a moot point, one I won't discuss with you right now. At any rate, I am no longer that man."

"But you are," she said, turning his head around with a gentle finger on his chin. "You are with me."

"You're delusional, Rebecca. I've been your advocate, your protector, and I've listened to you when no one else would, but I've done so only to further the interests of humanity. You only see who you want me to be, not who I am."

"Bullshit!" Damn his ability to turn it off, to forget what made them human in the first place. He wouldn't get away with it this time. "I know you well enough, Jack. Our relationship is fucked up, no question, but you came here tonight because you think it might be the last time you ever see me. That speaks volumes."

"You are the best and brightest humanity has to offer," he said glibly. "Of course I want to spend time with the great Commander Shepard."

"Don't patronize me, Jack." She leapt from the couch and almost tripped on her own feet as she scrambled to move away from him. "You can reject me and tell me to go to hell, but don't you _dare_ patronize me." The bitter tone in her voice was not one she used often with him, but he was being too slick, too inflammatory. Too distant.

"You're right," he said quietly. "That was uncalled for. We're both on edge about the mission."

"The mission has nothing to do with it."

"You're wrong." He motioned for her to sit beside him, but she folded her arms across her chest and looked away. "Come here and sit down. I'm not trying to push you away."

"I know you're not. You're manipulating the conversation and placing blame on anything but yourself. You're predictable that way."

"I am not predictable."

"Yes, you are. And transparent." She was about to launch into some sort of diatribe about his communication skills and he knew it. The look on his face was priceless. "The suit you're wearing… you wore it because you know it's my favorite. The cologne, too. You only wear Bay Rum when you're with me. Because _I_ like it." She paced the floor, her fingers pawing at her hair until she stopped to yell at him. "And beyond that, I've seen your smile when you think I'm not looking, I've felt your hands on me, Jack. All those things meant to tell me what you can't say to my face. So _don't_ tell me I'm imaging things or suffering from some sort of Stockholm Syndrome. I _know_ how you feel about me." She pinned him with a cold, almost hate-filled gaze, one he'd come to expect. "I'll _never_ think otherwise."

His glass hit the table with a hollow clunk and he scratched his forehead before standing up. As he tried to embrace her, she pulled away, tears trickling from the corners of her eyes. "Come on, Rebecca, don't do this."

"Tonight was a mistake," she said, hardly believing her own ears. It seemed her gamble wouldn't pay off after all. _Damn it!_ Her head felt about to explode. Just looking at him filled her with a mixture of excitement and anticipation, but also peace, shelter, knowing anywhere with him was a place where she could lay everything down for a while and just let him explain all the sadness and regret away. "I want you to leave." She turned her back to him and held her breath as he moved away. Still she didn't look at him, afraid if she did, she would turn around, run to him, and hurl herself into his arms. "And I'm not asking you to go, I'm telling you to."

"I'm not going anywhere," he said, and poured himself another drink, then raised it to her in toast as her jaw dropped. "To you, Rebecca. Now stop being childish." His patronizing smirk sent her over the edge.

"I fucking hate you!" she screamed, and threw her empty glass at him. As he easily dodged it, she ran at him swinging wildly. All she wanted to do was beat his face and chest with her fists, but a sense of self-preservation kept her from injuring him. Or maybe it was the half-amused, half-hurt expression on his face when he grabbed hold of her and held her tightly. She struggled to tear herself away from him, without her usual strength, all the while muttering every profanity that came to mind. After a long minute, she weakened in the embrace of the man who, despite everything, still excited her, still tempted her.

"You don't hate me." She glared up at him, her look one of utter confusion. Then he took her mouth in a raw, savage kiss, stealing her breath and robbing her of rational thought. "You can't hate me no matter how much you try."

"You are so goddamn arrogant," she said. "If I _could_ hate you, I'd sleep much better at night."

"I could say the same." His gaze locked with hers, intense now as he took her hands in his. "Now do me a favor and indulge me for a minute, keeping your comments to yourself while I speak."

"Why bother trying to smooth things over? This is going nowhere and nothing you can say-"

"Please, Rebecca. What I have to say is important."

Something that had once amused her softened his appearance; a hint of vulnerability, an almost innocent charm that didn't fit into the world of Cerberus and galactic domination. She watched him as he smoothed some hair back and straightened his collar, a rare moment of restlessness for the Illusive Man. Whatever he had to say was significant enough for him to permit a clear view into his heart, albeit through the smallest of windows. Holding back a sigh, she nodded, allowing him this one demand, hoping to hear something meaningful, anything to give her hope.

"You might as well have a smoke, too." His eyebrows formed a skeptical arch. "I know you want it, Jack."

With a slight smile, he took the case out from inside his jacket and offered her a cigarette. "Ready to take up smoking yet?" She shook her head. "Good for you. It's a terrible habit." He took a deep drag, held the smoke, then blew it slowly up over his head.

They stared at each other for a long moment as she waited for him to speak, the silence heightening the tension in the room. Her thoughts jumbled, panic rising in her gut now. Maybe it wasn't vulnerability she saw but finality. What could he say to her? That he was scared because of the strength and depth of the emotions he was feeling? No, that was her problem, not his. He was going to tell her it was over, that whatever they shared was ultimately doomed and she should forget him. _Impossible_. Her heart rate picked up, her pulse pounding in her ears so loudly she couldn't hear her own thoughts. Her vision began to waver as he opened his mouth to speak, and then her consciousness dimmed. Her last memory was of the firmness of his chest against her cheek and strong arms preventing her fall, only half-conscious of him leading her to the couch. Seconds went by, maybe minutes before she felt his hand on her face.

"Rebecca? Are you all right? You left me for a minute."

"Yeah. Just…." She took a deep breath and sipped from the glass of water he offered. "I haven't eaten much today."

"Are you sure there's no other reason for you to feel faint?" The concern in his voice made her stiffen on the couch as he pulled out an energy bar from his pocket. "Here."

"You're always prepared, aren't you?" She gave him a lopsided smile, then took a bite. "I'm fine, really. Thanks." She rolled her head from one shoulder to the other trying to release some of the tension as she spoke. "So you were going to say something. Lay it on me then," she said, and braced herself for whatever the revelation was hanging between them.

* * *

**_A/N:_**_ Thanks to __**Biff McLaughlin**__ for the great beta job and for keeping my Shepard in line. Any mistakes here are my fault for messing with this afterward. Almost there, Zute! Next chapter will have **all** the smut._


	3. And the Truth Will…?

**And the Truth Will…?**

"Are you sure you're all right, Rebecca? Was it something I said?"

"More like what you haven't said, Jack. Just get to it already," she snapped, thinking hyperventilation might set in before he said his piece.

He stared at her, looked as if he was about to speak_, _then stood up and silently paced. Was he reconsidering? _Or is he getting on his damn soap box again? _Feeling frustrated and confused, she pushed herself up and off the couch. "I have to use the bathroom, Jack. Get your shit together and form some sentences in the mean time."

A brow arched at her remark, and he cocked his head, but his expression held more annoyance than amusement. Rebecca's look was more akin to pure exasperation as she disappeared into the bathroom.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, the irregular scars on her cheek glowing slightly from those damn cybernetic implants. Chakwas had said the inflamed skin was due to anxiety and hostility, and she should try to maintain a positive outlook so they would heal properly. _Easier said than done_. True, recent dark thoughts, mainly the looming threat of the Collector mission, had put more strain on her skin and muscles than she cared to admit.

A few months ago, the scars had been almost nonexistent, right after the Horizon mission. She'd learned Jack had used her as bait, leaking her relationship with Cerberus to lure the Collectors to the Horizon colony, thus proving that the Collectors were actively seeking humans for some reason. Rebecca cursed him for putting the crew in unnecessary danger, for lying, and Jack argued he hadn't lied, he'd only omitted some details. If they had waited, the entire settlement would have been taken instead of only one-third. Back and forth it went, neither giving the other any ground until, exhausted, they agreed to disagree.

Jack had personally delivered a custom set of armor to the Normandy as a peace offering. They'd dined together, shared stories, and sipped wine. Like magnets, an hour later they were in bed together, unable to resist the pull of their attraction. All the elements seemed to line up perfectly. They held similar beliefs, had similar levels of intelligence and foresight—and the sex was incredibly intense. But despite it all, their clandestine relationship stressed her out daily. Glimpses into Cerberus had given her a better understanding of the organization too, and her concerns grew due to their "at any cost" mantra. So far, her fears had been unproven, but a voice in her head said "beware" a little too often.

Damn Cerberus. Why did she feel obligated to them? Or rather to him, the Illusive Man. It was a sickness — no a _madness_. Anything to destroy the Reapers. Take my enemies and my friends. My blood and bones. My very soul. _And break my heart in the process_.

And Jack wanted the Collector Base badly, told her it should go to Cerberus when the time came. Studying it would help destroy the Reapers, he had said. Sure it would, but at what cost? Would it help Jack conquer the galaxy? And if so, where did she fit in his new world? Not that it mattered anyway. She'd probably die on the mission, and if she was lucky enough to survive, a court martial seemed likely due to her being in bed with the enemy—so to speak.

_Fuck that_. No more decisions, no more questions with vague answers. It was time to put it all behind her, to take control of the one thing Jack, and everyone else, thought her to be weak in—her own happiness, however brief.

She emerged from the bathroom resilient and wanting the best sex of her life with him before everything went to hell. With her head held high, she watched as he sipped on a drink, staring off and thinking of God knew what before he realized her presence.

"And?" she said. "Have something mind-blowing to say about the human condition?"

"Only _this_ condition," he said, gesturing between them. Slowly, thoughtful and even words came from his lips as he moved his arm in a sweeping gesture. "I poured two years and almost everything I had into your recovery, and I don't regret it, but to be honest, you've been a pain in my ass ever since."

"Pfft! And that's supposed to-"

"For a minute, please keep the comments to yourself. It's not a complaint. It's a compliment. You've called me out on many of my decisions, citing poor judgment or unethical behavior, and you've cost me vast amounts of money as a result of your idealistic notions. Not always a wise way to live and yet you continue to achieve the impossible. That is what makes Commander Shepard a leader, a symbol of humanity. A heroine. And we don't always have to agree."

He waited during her dramatic eye roll and exaggerated sigh, then continued. "But Rebecca Shepard, the woman, doesn't like to be set apart or put up on a pedestal. She prefers to blend in when she can and inspire when it's needed. Being all things to all people as the need arises is a tall order, but I always knew you were up to the task. Once I got over the hero worship," he said with a surprisingly self-deprecating laugh, "I began to notice other things about you, personal things." He paused and tipped his head, giving her a warm smile. "You get a fire in your eyes that can't be extinguished, not even with my remarkably witty comebacks."

"Bullshit. That's just the cybernetic implants glowing."

"No, it's not," he said, staring into her eyes. "I'm even amused by your feigned pouts, but the outbursts, well… I could do without those."

"What the f-" His fingers sealed her lips with incredible speed, and he gathered her into his arms. She felt equal parts grateful for his flattering assessment and resentful for being his charity case. None of which she planned to tell him. She wasn't sure how much longer she could go on without speaking, without holding him tight enough to squeeze the air from his lungs. But he wasn't done.

"The result of Project Lazarus was utterly satisfying professionally, but more so personally." She relaxed in his arms, his often unseen humility dissolving her agitation. "It's no wonder your crew is willing to follow you into hell. They believe in you. I believe in you. The effect you have on me is... I'm not sure what the word is for it."

Rebecca wondered if she ought to supply "the word" as her grip on him tightened.

"I admire you, Rebecca. I admit I'm also a bit fascinated with you, and always tempted by you. But I've never felt indifference toward you. It would be impossible to feel indifferent about a woman who stirs such loyalty in her companions," he said with a sprinkle of respect in his smile. "You are an enigma, certainly."

His honesty brought color to her cheeks, the intimacy between them now almost unbearable. This side of Jack was a welcome change, and the urge to say everything overwhelmed her good sense.

"Jack, you know me better than anyone else, and I never thought we'd end up where we are, but this thing between us is more than one hand washing the other. It's more personal than the teasing insults we sling at each other during strategy breaks. And it's certainly more than gratitude on my part, or yours. I think you know where I'm going with this."

At the gentle touch of her fingertips on his face, he closed his eyes and pulled away but kept a grip on her hand. "Rebecca, you don't believe in love. I think the exact phrase was 'love only exists when there is freedom.'" She flinched as he quoted her words back to her. "It's just sex or lust. Boredom. Simple escape at best."

"I was wrong, ignoring what I felt."

"Rebecca," he said again. "We've always said no questions and no promises. Why are you pushing this? Pushing _me_?"

"I'm not pushing anything. I need to tell you how I feel, to... to just fucking _say_ it, in case I don't–" _See you again_. She stopped speaking, her voice catching in her throat as her hand flattened on his chest.

A serene, almost cocky expression remained on his face, even though his body tensed. It was almost imperceptible, the change that came over him then. He was suddenly touching her in ways that had her sighing and curving herself around him, his hands carefully placed on the small of her back, his breathing just a little more shallow, his lips slightly turned up and parted with unspoken sentiments.

"Christ, Jack, I just want you to know what you mean to me, how these last months have changed my life in ways I can't even fathom. Is that so bad?" His growing smile, accompanied by an affectionate squeeze, was her undoing. "I love you. There. I had to say it, to admit it, for my own sanity, goddamn it all."

At first he didn't move, didn't speak. He just kept staring at her. Rebecca knew she'd sounded desperate, but for once, she simply didn't care. There was freedom in her admission, in her honesty, and she didn't regret it. She couldn't.

Heat surged to her cheeks as he reached out to caress her face, stroking his thumb across her lips. The feather-light touch had her trembling and he'd hardly done a thing.

"Don't ever change, Rebecca. And don't get yourself killed. I don't want to find out how your death would affect me."

Her eyes stung as she heard those words from him. He didn't say he loved her, but he didn't have to. She felt his love all the same. Then he claimed her mouth, no heated and seductive phrases, only passion. The kiss was as hard and unyielding as she knew the reality of the man to be, reminding her that no matter how gentle he was, how thoughtful and even loving, he was still a man who had mysterious layers. It was a dangerous and seductive combination, but that knowledge only served to heighten her desire for him.

She gave herself up to the kiss and melted against him. As his hands moved over the curves of her waist, he shifted to let her head rest on his shoulder for a moment, and she relaxed blissfully in his embrace. Impatience fueled her craving for him though, and she began unbuttoning his shirt, using her fingernails to gently scratch his chest, teasing a sharp intake of breath from him. But after she did so, he stepped back.

"What's wrong?"

He shook his head and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. "Nothing is wrong. I… I could use a smoke though, but I won't."

"Thanks for having a little self-control," she said, but his expression remained serious. She'd never seen him fail to keep his emotions under control. He was always poised, always subdued, but this was different. He was visibly caught off-balance by her admission.

Jack's eyes narrowed with the effort of collecting his thoughts. "Don't say anything else that can't be taken back."

"I don't want to take it back. It's… _right_, Jack. I know it is," she said, feeling protective as she watched him struggle with raw emotions, his face clearly mirroring an inner fight. "But if you don't want to be here anymore, if I've made you uncomfortable, then tell me. Be honest with me."

"I have been honest with you, far more honest than I intended to be in the beginning." Of course he didn't want to leave, and yet, he couldn't say what she wanted to hear. It bothered him to treat her this way. She deserved more from a lover, much more, but if he encouraged their relationship… no. No, he'd already said too much. Her loyalties would be torn in the end, swayed by a fleeting love for him. Everything would change; all the plans and schemes that had been carefully crafted would fail. As long as he showed affection but never said those three words….

He brushed some stray hairs from her eyes before crushing his mouth to hers again, capturing her lips with a kiss of such passion it made her head spin. "Now you look as if you have been thoroughly kissed."

"Jack, I want to-"

He shifted his thumb across her lips again, effectively silencing anything else she might have said. "Bear with me a moment longer."

In the silence that followed, she watched him, dumbstruck, as he picked up the stereo remote and punched some buttons. The opening sounds of a soulful tune dating almost two centuries before the First Contact War filled the room.

… _the way I feel about you, girl, I just can't live without you…._

"What is this?" she asked, stifling a giggle. "And can I pretend you're singing it to me?"

"Come here," he said in a low growl, and whatever else he was muttering was lost to her in the heat of his mouth and the strength of his arms. "Just listen to the music."

_I'm never, ever gonna quit, cause quittin' just ain't my schtick._

_I'm gonna stay right here with you, do all the things you want me to._

"Your _schtick_?" She laughed, but not too boisterously, as the smile on his face faltered at her taunt.

"I knew I should have turned the vocals down." With one hand on the small of her back, and the other clutching her hand, he began to dance. "Yes, the lyrics are somewhat clichéd, but the music is soothing. Sensual as well as romantic. And I know you have an absurd love for romance."

"You thought of me when you picked this song? Wow." _Who is this man dancing with me?_ She couldn't stop the thrill rushing through her body any more than she could push aside the love she held for him in her heart. A soft kiss from her lips tickled his cheek, as it always did when he touched her heart in inexplicable ways. "Where did this song come from anyway? I've never heard it before."

"It's a soulful singer of the twentieth century. He was very popular with couples around Valentine's Day."

"_Twentieth_ century? How did this ever survive over the years?"

"An underground music movement has always existed on Earth and money can buy just about anything. This is from my _personal_ collection, meaning no one but me has listened to it. It's only available when the correct password is entered." His eyes warmed with a flash of humor. "Predictable, hm?"

Their eyes locked briefly, and she followed the rhythm as he pressed his cheek to hers, letting the comfort of being in his arms wash over her. A fierce passion stirred within her and she sighed, closing her eyes and imprinting the moment in her mind. Together they swayed to the music, their bodies molding, their breaths mingling as his hands roamed over her back, stroking her and gathering her even closer to him.

With a movement so swift she had no time to object, he whirled her fully around and dipped her backward. Her hair brushed against the floor, and he held her there, his eyes challenging as she smiled back at him before pulling her upright into a long and lingering kiss.

"Feel free to take back your earlier comment," he whispered.

"Of course I would protect you if any of the crew started taking shots are you."

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Okay, yes, you're not as predictable as I thought. You shocked me with the dancing." Her heart thudded in her chest as the music came to a crescendo, an erotic rhythm almost matching the building energy surrounding them. She took his hands and led him toward the bed, peeling off his suit jacket in the process. "Have anything else you'd like to share?"

"I have a few tricks up my sleeve." With excruciating slowness, he unbuttoned her shirt, slipping it off her shoulders. "If you behave, maybe I'll show you some." He kissed his way down her neck and chest, and she groaned as her back arched.

"Mmm, that's more like it." He slipped a hand under her bra, and she felt her nipples tighten in response. She jerked backwards, bumping into the table and knocking his knife to the floor.

He laughed. "So much for moving with the poise of a dancer."

"You're a distraction, Jack." Knowing she moved more like a boxer than a ballerina, she laughed at her lack of grace. "So what's the story with that knife? A memento from your misspent youth?"

"A memento, yes." A thought seemed to hit him like a freight train, but he quickly regained clarity, his eyes narrowing. "I was fourteen. A vagrant broke into our home. He reeked of gin and sweat," he said, sneering. "As he was going through a drawer, my dog attacked him. He pulled a knife from his boot and stabbed the dog in the chest, killing it. I tackled him to the floor and wrestled the knife away, then used it to slit his throat. I was never without a knife again," he said, a coldness in his voice sending a chill down her spine.

"Way to kill the mood, Harper." A momentary look of regret came over his face. "I'm kidding!" Without thinking, she took his finger into her mouth. He inhaled sharply as she drew it deeper, savoring its clean taste. "It would take more than that to turn me off right now."

"Horny tonight, are you?"

"Very." He held her wrist as she rubbed his hardness through his suit. Leaning forward, he kissed her again, and this time she sucked on his tongue and began making little moaning noises, tempting him. "So," she whispered, coming up for air, "that knife means a lot to you then?"

"It came in handy later on… But yes, it means a lot, as does anything I've fought for." Dispelling a brief, faraway gaze, he met her eyes directly. "Or anyone."

He had no idea what hit him when she flung him onto the bed. Landing on top of him, she straddled his hips and held his wrists down, then assessed his stunned expression. "Don't look so surprised, Jack." A triumphant grin spread across her face. Adrenaline fired through her body, knowing he could easily have her flat on her back and under his control. "I want you naked," she whispered against his mouth.

"By all means, Commander. Do what you must." Using her title, she understood that for one brief moment, he'd allowed himself to be subordinate. "Just be gentle," he added with a wink.

Grinning, she yanked his shirt up and over his head before he fumbled to unclasp her bra. Bumping noses and foreheads, they readjusted and resumed kissing until her bra was tossed over a shoulder. Then, not a spot on his exposed skin was ignored, her lips trailing to kiss his neck, firm chest and taut stomach. Unbuckling his belt, her attention focused lower. She moved a finger around the front of the elastic band of his underwear.

"Hmm, boxers or briefs tonight?" He only smirked at her, sighing as she unbuttoned his pants. "Or a combination…." He watched as a shrewd smile brightened her face. "You know I _love_ these purple boxer-briefs."

He sat up and swiftly grabbed her hips, pulling her closer. "You're so damn hot when you're enthusiastic," he murmured near her ear, his smooth hands easing into her pants.

"Do you ever miss that excitement?" she asked, sitting back on her calves and sliding the boxer-briefs down to his ankles.

"This is far more exciting." He yanked her back up and fondled a breast, kneading it with his fingers.

"You know what I mean. Once a mercenary, always a mercenary, as they say."

"I channel my energy in more effective ways now." He removed her pants and underwear in one strong but deft pull downward. "Killing for pay does not make one an admired leader, nor does it keep one alive for very long."

"Admired leader? I don't think I've heard that one," she teased. "Reclusive tycoon, fanatical humanist… and oh, my personal favorite," she said moving her lips to his ear and nipping aggressively, "mysterious maverick." Then she felt him tense. _Shit. What now?_

"The future of humanity is at stake, Rebecca. I'm merely doing my part to ensure humans remain on top of the food chain so we can advance our agenda on the galactic front."

"Yeah, yeah. You don't trust in the Councilors' ability to do that. Too many cover-ups, blah, blah, blah."

"Political instability among the Quarians is more of a concern to me than killing every Geth in the galaxy. The Councilors are weak-minded and shortsighted, as are all the sheep who follow them blindly."

"I don't disagree. But we're doing what we can. Maybe you should throw a party and give them a lecture, making sure all the newsfeeds air it." She shook her head. "Oh no, you _can't_ do that. No one can know what you look like now, isn't that right, Illusive Man?"

"You're starting to sound like Miranda. I'd hate to have to discipline you as I did her last week."

"Did you slap her on the ass before or after the blowjob?"

"Miranda got off with a just warning. Kelly, on the other hand.…"

"Funny, Kelly never mentioned that, and she tells me everything. I think you're lying, Jack."

"And I think you're jealous, Rebecca." He raised her head with a nudge of his finger to see what her face could tell him. She wore a challenging expression, mouth set, eyes narrowed, not the least bit a shrinking violet. "Would you _like_ to be the recipient of one of my special punishments? To be one of the proud few?"

"I know for a fact that you haven't had any type of relations with those two. The Shadowbroker is my best friend, in case you've forgotten. You're an ass for even trying to pull that one off."

He laughed. "We _were_ having a civil discussion until you started in on me."

"Fine then. Back to our previous conversation." Why was she continuing to provoke him instead of nipping the conversation in the bud? She did love getting him riled up, seeing the passion burn in his eyes as he spoke. And lighting a fire in him so scorching she might never recover if she got too close to the flames sounded very good just then. "So are you looking for some sort of respect or acknowledgment from the frightened masses and their leaders?"

"I don't need anyone's approval or respect for my actions," he said with a hint of a mocking grin around the corners of his mouth.

"You know, Jack," she said, using a tone he hated, "Zaeed once told me that most people can't tell the difference between a professional killer and psychopath." She allowed a little bitchiness to quirk her smile, and the words on her tongue came out easily. "I'm not sure where you fit in there."

"Why are we having this conversation now?" He caught her by the arms and flipped her over, holding her down with the weight of his body. With his mouth, he muffled what was sure to be a weak protest, kissing her greedily. "I think you're purposely trying to anger me, Rebecca."

"Am I?" she asked, trying to catch her breath.

"Yes, because you want it rough tonight. Hard and deep. You want to forget all the death and responsibility around you and just feel alive."

She reached down to stroke him. "Maybe."

"Well so do I. And this is how I feel alive." He grabbed her roughly and pushed her thighs apart. "I plan to fuck you until you can't walk straight... If that's all right with you."

Her eyes went wild, and she writhed against him, drinking in his kisses, grasping at his shoulders and back as she fought to bring herself closer to him. She wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her, and it was intoxicating. "Jesus, Jack, get to it already."

Two fingers plunged into her fast as his tongue swirled around a nipple. Tiny nips and sucks had her squirming, his whispers of things to come sending more shivers of delight down to her toes. Some of those things were already in progress, and that had her shifting and pressing against him, doing everything in her power to guide him toward giving her more, all of which only got her a chuckle.

He moved back to her mouth, kissing her with abandon, and she gave in, desire driving her to kiss him as though she hadn't in a thousand years. That was certainly what it felt like. He set a furious pace, and she met his hand's every thrust, rolling her hips in time. She shuddered and cried into his mouth as she clenched around his fingers. She was ready for him so quickly, and she saw the excitement in his gaze, heard it in his whispered promises. It energized him to know that she was as hungry for him as he was for her, and that made her supremely happy.

But she was close, too close as his nimble fingers brought her to the brink. Just when she was about to come apart, he stopped, a wicked grin playing on his lips. Lust filled his gaze, and he pulled her up, tucking a pillow under her hips before letting her relax back onto the bed. It left her exposed, giving her a thrill like never before.

"And so, Rebecca, it has come to this." Goose bumps rose on her bare flesh where his eyes roamed freely across her skin. "Tell me, what's next?"

"Jack, I want… please, just…."

"What do you want? What do _I _have that you want?" She remained helplessly still as he trailed gentle fingers over her rounded contours before brushing a thumb across one tender peak of her breasts. "You have everything, and yet you want more."

"Not everything. I want you, Jack. Make love to me and…." She paused breathlessly. For a moment, she thought the words might scare him, that too much tenderness might put him off, but the longing and affection in her voice only served to make him harder. He encircled her in his arms and pulled her in. She kissed him, gently at first, then more urgently. Grabbing his face, she felt him wince, heard him groan. "That's all I want, Jack... from you, from tonight. Just make love to me."

"Judging by the grip you have on my head, refusing you would decidedly _not_ be in my best interest."

She laughed. "Correct."

She loosened her hold, but he didn't loosen his as his face softened. Then he smiled. "Owning Illium would be incredibly satisfying, don't you think? The Crescent Nebula should be easy enough to take."

Her eyes narrowed for a second. A strange thing to mention in the heat of passion. "Sure. But let's discuss conquering the galaxy another day."

"I wish I could give you more," he said, gazing in to her eyes, yet not really seeing. "What you deserve."

_Is he for real right now? I think he is._ "I don't need Illium, Jack. I only need _you_." She stared at him, her hair fanning out around her face, color staining her cheeks, her eyes flashing. "That sounded pretty cheesy, didn't it?"

"Yes."

"I don't really care. Just give me yourself tonight and I'll be happy."

_Myself_. In such a darkened universe, she was the one bright, shining light in his life, like a rogue comet. At that moment, he wanted her more than any woman he'd ever wanted, to give her more. But how could he knowing what the end result would be? This wasn't a woman looking for a one night stand either—yes, she was under him, moving with him, touching and caressing and opening to him. That, he could understand. But what she really wanted were the same things he did, the comforts. He longed to have her snuggle up to him in sleep every night, to smile at him over morning coffee and news feeds. Massaging her tired muscles as she teased him about his obsessive hygiene practices and unhealthy habits would be a dream come true, a wonderful life for any man. Any man but him.

For tonight though, he would savor the moment _and_ the woman, live it without thoughts of the future. Right now there was just the two of them, and he wouldn't let anyone, not even himself, ruin what they were sharing.

"All right. For the next few hours, I'll let you have me."

She smiled at him, blinking away the sting of unexpected tears. "And I mean _all_ of you."

"You'll get it all." He leaned in and pressed his lips to her ear. "I'm going to make you come over and over again, and just when you think you can't take anymore, I'll tease you until you beg me for relief. And _that_ is a promise." She trembled, but not from anxiety; it was pure excitement.

Slowly his tongue trailed down and up her inner thigh until he kissed her where she ached. She moaned at the feel of his lips against her, his tongue sweeping across her as her hips snapped up to meet his mouth. Holding her breath, she writhed in anticipation of his tongue plunging deeper. When he hesitated, she looked down to find him staring up at her. The raw, possessive look on his face stole her breath away.

"Just wanted to remind you of who you'll be making love to."

"No need. Jack."

He moved over her body, straddling her waist. Arousal flared in her as her muscles tightened and twitched while he stared down at her. He spread her legs wider and sank into her, listening to her gasp and cry out before reaching with both hands to twist her nipples between his fingers. He held onto them, pulling and tugging at the tips as he continued to push into her.

She moaned with every thrust as they got harder and faster. Shivers ran up and down her body; every part he touched within her sending shock waves of sensation through her. Matching the tempo of his strokes, she drew him in deeper, keeping her eyes open, as fascinated by the intensity of his stare as the ripples of pleasure pumping through her. _His eyes. His marvelous and ageless eyes, so cool but alive._

Low groans escaped him with every thrust of his hips, driven by a throbbing, primal need. She threw herself into it, searching for ways to use her body to pleasure him just as he was using his to pleasure her. And if they wrestled, she suspected he enjoyed it as much as she did. Both shook with the effort to stay in control, to wait, to make the moment last.

"More Jack… give me more." She gasped and clutched his shoulders, whimpering with every groan in her ear, digging her nails into his back.

The slight pain was good. It helped him focus on his task. He wanted it to be perfect for her, as perfect as she'd always been for him. Then his muscles coiled. He thrust once more before everything dissolved around them.

It was an orgasm of such overwhelming intensity that she felt as if she were in another world, on another plane, a spiritual and overwhelming place of self-awareness. She stroked his back, murmuring, "God, Jack… yes," as he came, her name rough on his lips. This was it, the perfect moment, and he strained and strained until there was nothing left. Even then, she didn't want it to end.

When he collapsed next to her, the bed bounced under his weight. For some reason that made her laugh. He answered with a chuckle of his own, and slipped an arm around her waist. Nestling into the warm contours of his body as he lay on his side, she was content to be in his arms and basked in the sense of security he gave her.

"I have a request," he said, still breathing heavily.

"Already? Can't you give me a few minutes to recover from that?"

"The fact that you need recovery time is somewhat pathetic." The punch he received was rather hard, but he knew it was coming and deflected some of the blow by rolling onto his back and pulling her on top of him. "I had something less taxing in mind. A shower."

"Ah." Something about his tone didn't convince her, and she eyed him suspiciously. "Why do I get the feeling that taking a shower really means steamy, hot bathroom sex?"

"Your instincts may be right. Or, they may be wrong. We'll see."

"Tease." She gave him a long, considering look before throwing the sheets off and dragging him toward the bathroom.

* * *

Three hours of making love, showering and making love again went by. Jack felt drugged and dazed—and desperate, mostly to have her again, but also partly to leave while the saner part of his brain still had a say in the matter.

He watched as her eyelids fought sleep, and just before her conscience slipped into a dream, he whispered to her. "I enjoyed tonight, Rebecca. But I think you should get some rest now. The Omega-4 Relay is only a day away from here." He felt her stiffen as she twisted around to face him.

"So, I guess you'll be heading back to Cronos now that-"

"No." He cut off her words, his kiss scorching, possessive and protective at the same time. This could be their last kiss and, by God, he'd make sure she'd never forget it. "I'm perfectly happy here. It's… comfortable. Uncomplicated. That's soon to change, I'm sure." As the words rolled off his tongue, his eyes pinched closed.

"What do you mean? Is this about the mission?"

Her gaze was scrutinizing. It was hard to fool her now, after all the intimate moments shared the last few hours.

A mask of calm practicality stole over his face. "We need to get a leg up on the Reapers with the intel the Collectors' Base holds. I'm confident in your ability to do so, Rebecca, but I also have to be prepared, to think of a plan B, and C and D, should the mission fail in any way."

"You worry too much, Jack. We'll get the intel and take care of the Reapers when the time comes."

"I know we will," he said, reassuringly. "Once you've acquired their base, we can move forward with some other plans guaranteed to help us understand the Reapers more clearly."

"What is there to understand? They want to take us out and we need to take them out first."

"There may be other ways to outsmart them. We need to look at it from every angle."

Controlling them was the key, using their tactics against them. Jack knew it but couldn't prove it. Not yet. Luckily, other strategies had already been put in motion by him, new _acquisitions_ for Cerberus, including more cybernetically enhanced employees. Project Overlord was in full swing, and a Cerberus lab awaited his order to finish the implanting of Reaper tech into Paul Grayson. Hopefully these experiments would yield the information Cerberus needed to understand indoctrination. It would all come together eventually, but Rebecca didn't need the details just yet. First things first.

"Good thing we have you on the job, Jack, but I think it's just a matter of sending their asses back to wherever they came from. That's my simple plan."

"Nothing is that simple, Rebecca." He glanced down at her and kissed the top of her head. "But enough talk. Let's relax while we can."

She snuggled closer and smiled against his bare chest, and he could only hope that the troubling things darkening his voice were lost to her in that moment of intimacy.

* * *

Rebecca awoke alone. Though he had stayed with her far longer than he ever had, she wasn't surprised he'd slipped away while she slept. Still, she longed for his warmth. When she rolled over and grabbed his pillow, clutching it tightly and breathing in the lingering scent of Bay Rum, she noticed his dagger on the nightstand, and beneath it, a datapad, the flashing light indicating there was a message for her.

"He left me his knife," she said. "I never would have predicted that either." She held the datapad above her face, feeling a bit melancholy as she sank back into the pillows.

_Rebecca,_

_I thought you might like to have the knife, if for no other reason than to remind you of last night. Use it well, if you do. And don't worry, I have others._

_I owe you another dance, so come back in one piece and I'll make sure to show you some more impressive moves, both on and off the dance floor. We can go back to Illium, or we can go to Donovan Hock's mansion on Beckenstein. Did I mention I bought the place after you killed him? I know you were impressed with the lake views there, and the hot tub. Or if you have another idea, I can be flexible. Well, maybe not quite as flexible as you are, but I'll work on that._

_Good luck_ _and keep the commlink open once you arrive at the Collectors' Base_.

_Yours,  
Jack_

"Mine," she whispered. "If only you were, Jack."

The message slowly disappeared as she reread it, automatically converting into an unhackable digital code. "I'd rather have _him_ with me than this knife."

She sighed. Sadness settled in her heart, or maybe it was envy for those allowed to be in his presence every day, but only briefly, as EDI's voice echoed through the room. "Commander, the crew is assembled in the briefing room awaiting your arrival."

"I'll be there in a few minutes, EDI. Have Garrus review the minutes from our meeting the other day."

"Yes, Commander."

"Back to work," she said to herself. "I guess I can just get dressed since I showered only a few hours ago." She smiled at the thought of Jack expertly washing her hair. His touch had been so gentle as he covered her body in lather, massaging her shoulders, arms and legs. But when he was done, the look in his eyes had turned predatory, his touch deliberate. He'd grabbed her hips roughly, bent her over, and fucked her with a ferocity that left her panting for more.

"Soon."

The memory put a spring her in step. Once dressed and ready, she made her way to the briefing room, albeit a little slower than usual—and veering into a wall once or twice.

_I guess he did fuck me until I couldn't walk straight, _she thought with a chuckle. _Well, payback's a bitch. Next time he'll need a cane to get around when I'm done with him._

A cool breeze chilled the briefing room when she walked in with squared shoulders, speaking in a clipped tone. "All right, people. Let's talk about hitting these assholes where it hurts. I have no intention of getting killed because we weren't well enough prepared. No casualties on this mission. And that's a goddamn order."

* * *

**_A/N:_** _Sorry this took so long to update, Zute. Apparently I am incapable of writing porn without plot. So now that I've created this relationship, I plan to see it to the end, tragic as it may be. _

_Many hugs to **Biff McLaughlin** for her terrific beta skills and her friendship. I can't keep my hands off the keyboard after a beta job, so any mistakes are solely mine. To my buddies, Biff, Zute and HotElf, thanks for all the encouragement when the muse wanted to stay on permanent vacation._

_To **Dy**, since I couldn't reply due to the review being anon: In my mind, just because Shepard is a hardcore soldier doesn't mean she won't vent her emotions on occasion, especially to Jack, the only person she's ever felt comfortable enough with to let inside her mind. She's human, after all. The Shepard in the game is practically inhuman in her ability to repress, but we do see cracks in her armor sometimes, especially once she's involved with an LI. Love isn't a simple emotion, so this story_ _will include things like_ _disillusionment, betrayal, healing, bliss, hope, etc. It is a love story in the end._ _Thanks for your comment._

_I appreciate all the reviews/follows/faves. It's great to hear what you're thinking, folks. I know this ship isn't too common, but it should be!_


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